


The Natural Progression of Things

by Mandibles



Series: In which I try to cope with the Colton Thing [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ball Gags, Crossdressing, Dom!Lydia of course, Dom/sub, F/M, Kinbaku (Japanese Rope Bondage), Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:09:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandibles/pseuds/Mandibles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had started out small and rose in degrees as most things between them do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Natural Progression of Things

**Author's Note:**

> For those interested, Jackson's position is based on [this](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbnsy5LWeN1qhsawxo1_500.jpg), the only difference being that his arms are behind his back like [this](http://nawado.pl/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/18.-koniec-bazy.jpg) and are not bound to the ring.

It had started out small and rose in degrees as most things between them do. At first, it was a simple length of linen that tied up Jackson’s cock and balls with simple turns and twists, precum oozing and rolling down the length; then, it was something longer, sturdier, binding his wrists. Next, were his elbows, his arms, crisscrosses down his chest, his ankles, his knees and thighs. The length of rope grew longer and longer until there were more pieces, more to wrap and twist and squeeze around freckled skin, burns flushing dark. So, having him as Lydia does now, suspended from the low ceiling of her basement, doesn’t really seem like a step too far; if anything, it is only the natural progression of things.

The high-waisted brown stockings, sleek black pumps, are new additions, though.

There’s something terribly beautiful in it, how muscles are pulled taut in places and skin bunches in others, how raw, sensitive flesh gets where scarlet hemp bites into it. But, what Lydia loves most about it—more than Jackson quiet simpering or the erection that curves up to his stomach—is the sharp bow of his spine as he hangs, his arms bound behind his back and one of his legs pulled up as far as it can by the shoe, just out of comfort, the other barely grazing the floor. God, he’s just so perfect like this, trussed up for her like a present on Christmas, that Lydia is almost embarrassingly wet, her panties damp with it.

But then, when she traces her fingers up his—bound, of course—cock bobbing between his legs and his stomach contracts, toes curl with near-orgasm, she finds herself better off. Especially when he moans so beautifully around the ball gag stretching his mouth.

Lydia moves back and returns to Jackson’s ruddy face, wet and messy by a mix of tears and saliva, his eyes puffy, half-lidded, fucked. She tilts his chin up and smiles. “Are you okay?” After a moment, he nods, slow and irregular like his head is waterlogged; Lydia hums in approval, taking an obscenely stretched lip between her teeth, hard nipples between her fingertips. “Good, you’re so good, Jackson.” He preens under the praise. “What should I do with you this time, though?”

Jackson moans again.

“Should I jack you off?”

Tossed hair. No.

“Should I fuck you, then? No?” Jackson shakes his head harder. “Then, what can we—oh.” The light bulb flicks on and Lydia levels Jackson’s widened eyes with hers. “Oh, I know. You want to be spanked, don’t you, Jackson? Punished.”

A beat, then, face aflame with shame, Jackson slowly nods. Yes. Yes, please. And, Lydia chuckles, presses a sweet kiss to his nose with a, “Okay, sweetie. If that’s what you need.”

He trembles as her hand spans the expanse of his ass, bare beneath the layer of stocking. It’s toned, beautiful, and burns perfectly at the first, firm stroke, the smack and Jackson’s surprised yowl cutting through the air like a bullet. She waits until the rope stops creaking, until he stops struggling, before she lands another, and third, and a fourth in razor-sharp succession, making sure to alternate cheeks but hit the same spots.

The spasms that start in Jackson’s bound leg aren’t lost on her; it doesn’t take Jackson much, not if his heart’s in it.

And, sure enough, a slap or three later, Jackson arches futilely against his restraints, toes curling tightly as his cock fires sticky strings into empty air, speckling Lydia’s carpet in ejaculate. He’s silent at first, but after the initial spurts, he keens and puffs wetly, his face scrunched tightly in pleasure, nostrils flared. Lydia patiently waits for him to ride through the tremors, a hand idly scratching over the raw area of his ass and the other curled around the line tugging him up from his shoulders, before she unhooks him from the ceiling and he drops forward, a heeled foot still slung in the air. She undoes that too and he’s sprawled across the floor.

Then, the gag is gone and he’s sucking greedily for breath, but the relief is short-lived when Lydia settles beside him, takes a fistful of hair, and drags him between her thighs.

“My turn,” she purrs lowly as she drags her panty aside for Jackson’s eager tongue.


End file.
